


Go Far

by CarnivorousMoogle



Series: Requests and Drabble Collections [4]
Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Biker AU, F/F, M/M, askbox anthology, genderbend au, mostly just dumb fluff sorry, random AU drabbles, rescue wrenchers AU, three-sentence fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:35:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2230938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarnivorousMoogle/pseuds/CarnivorousMoogle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And far go. (Fargo askbox anthology)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Planets (Don/Dmitri)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donmitri, for romaniandumpsterhooker on tumblr.

People are like planets, Don said once.

He doesn’t remember who he said it to, of course, and they hadn’t been listening, which was fine because people don’t listen and that’s okay; but it’s an image that’s stayed with him over the years ever since he put his finger on it.

People have a gravity to them. People are _interesting._ People move and think and talk and really, when you think about it, how cool is that? In a world full of things to pay attention to, Don is drawn to people the most.

Sometimes he realizes that he’s standing too close, being too familiar, that this is Awkward and he needs to back off; and he does, usually, until he forgets again.

Sometimes. More so than usual, after what happened in Bemidji.

People are still interesting, definitely, but he’s had a glimpse of an _interesting_ he doesn’t want to see, the kind of _interesting_ that slits open dogs and ruins lives and leaves someone to die like a rat in a cage, and thinks it’s the funniest thing in the world.

Yes, Don is a lot more respectful of personal space, these days.

This particular Friday afternoon, alone in the apartment where they’re staying with the odd fellas who gave them a lift out of town, he flops onto the couch, sighing loudly.

And nearly jumps out of his skin when a voice two feet from his ear says “Rough day, huh?”

 _"Geez!"_ he yelps, scrambling halfway over the armrest before he realizes it’s just Dmitri. The kid had apparently already been sitting there, in his quiet, happy, unobtrusive way. “Oh. Hi,” says Don, shakily.

Dmitri looks at him with concern. “Didn’t scare ya, did I?” he asks.

"Nah," he lies; and then, because Dmitri looks worried to the point of genuine distress, he feels compelled to add, "Sorry. Just a little jumpy is all."

The kid’s expression of worry doesn’t fade. “Are… are you okay?” When Don is silent, he hurries to fill the the gap. “Just, ya haven’t been sleepin’ much. I hear ya walkin’ around at night.”

Don laughs nervously, to stall for an answer that won’t come. He hasn’t been sleeping much lately. Hardly at all, in fact. Every time he closes his eyes, he feels duct tape biting into his flesh, and cold metal laid in his hands, and fear so strong he wants to throw up. Has, a couple times, in the long hours of the night.

He settles for as close to the truth as he can get. “I am pretty tired, yah,” he admits. “Beds are kinda uncomfortable.”

Dmitri looks puzzled for a moment—Mr. Wrench and Mr. Numbers’ house isn’t exactly what he’s used to, but he’s fine wherever he is, and the beds aren’t that bad—and then he seems to understand. “Oh. So ya like the couch better?”

Not really, Don thinks. “Yah. Yah. It, ah, reminds me of home.” Another laugh, which he doesn’t feel; he’s exhausted. “Too bad there’s no pillows.”

Dmitri beams like he’s just been handed a Christmas present. “You can lean on me, if ya want.”

Don stares for a moment, disbelieving, until it dawns that he means it. “R-really? I, I, no, that’s fine,” he stammers.

"Ya sure?" asks Dmitri, brightly. "Works like a charm for me."

"No, that’s fine, I—" Don flails weakly for an excuse, and realizes with surprise that he doesn’t need one; the idea really doesn’t bother him all that much. "Actually, that don’t sound so bad."

Dmitri smiles even more widely, if possible. “Okie.”

The process of scooting across the couch and tilting over to lean on Dmitri’s shoulder is awkward enough for even Don to feel, and he almost reconsiders. But he stays there for a moment, and another, and another, pulse slowing to match Dmitri’s peaceful heartbeat.

He’s almost surprised at how quickly he feels himself nodding off, and how much they’ve shifted position by the time he does; they’ve gone from stiff side-leaning to fluid and comfortable, half-curled around each other. Dmitri radiates sleepy happiness like a miniature sun, and it occurs to Don to wonder if maybe he feels the same pull to be close to others.

He wonders what Stavros would have had to say about that.

For the first time in more than a week, Don feels warm and safe and happy; and when he sleeps, no dreams follow him.


	2. Herding Cats (Don/Dmitri)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donmitri, for sweetalec on tumblr.

There’s some truth to the saying about herding cats, as Don has just discovered.

He didn't actually mean to get the kitten. He’d just been walking by the pet store on his way to the apartment, and bam! Buncha kittens on display in the window.

That alone isn’t what decided him, though. He’s walked past the pet store in Bemidji plenty of times without impulse-buying a kitten (it’s occurred to him before, definitely, but he’s just never had time to take care of a cat).

What decided him was the sudden intruding thought that Dmitri _loves_ animals, which led him to wonder if Dmitri has ever been allowed to have a pet, which led to Don walking out of the store with a carrier under his arm and a spring in his step.

Everything goes fine after that, up until he discovers that the latch on the carrier door is faulty. This becomes apparent when he sets it down in the lobby, looks away for a moment, and looks back to find the mesh door standing open and the kitten missing.

What follows is a half-hour of frantic searching, punctuated by accidental collisions and funny looks. When he finally finds the little ball of black fuzz staring wide-eyed from behind a washing machine, he’s out of breath and his knees and elbows are sore from kneeling to check the nooks and crannies.

"Yer a little troublemaker," he says to the kitten, scratching it behind the ears as he carries it upstairs. "Yes you are. Don’t go runnin’ off like that again, y’hear?"

All that trouble is more than worth it to see Dmitri’s face when he answers the door.

"Oooh!" he gasps, eyes sparkling. "C’n I hold him?"

Don barely has time to respond “S-sure,” before the kitten is out of his arms and Dmitri is sitting cross-legged on the floor, playing happily with his new friend. He shrugs and goes to put on some coffee, grinning to himself and humming mostly in-key.

A short time later, Wrench and Numbers get home, an eventuality that has not crossed his mind before now. Wrench’s expression is unreadable; Numbers stares in disbelief. “What’s this?”

Before Don can stammer an excuse, Dmitri looks up and seems to notice the two men for the first time. He beams, and holds the kitten in the air. “His name’s Snowflake,” he says proudly, not appearing to notice the incongruity. “Wanna pet him?”

As Numbers sputters, Wrench reaches out and carefully takes the kitten, cradling it in one palm. It purrs when he strokes its silky back with a large finger, and the ghost of a smile crosses his face. He sets it down on the floor, gives Dmitri a thumbs-up, and walks into the bedroom.

Numbers is still fuming as he follows Wrench; but, because Wrench likes the cat, or because even he can’t begrudge Dmitri, or both, he at least makes an effort not to step on it (which is made more difficult by its weaving between his legs and trying to rub its face on his shoe).

Dmitri meets Don’s eye. “Thanks,” he says, shyly. “Never had a cat before.”

Snowflake rubs up against his leg, purring, and Don smiles. “Me either. Want some coffee?”


	3. Tofu and Cadbury (Don/Dmitri)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Donmitri, for seamusharper on tumblr.

"Hey, any idea where they might keep the tofu in here?"

Dmitri looks up from counting the cans of soup on display. “Hm? Oh. I dunno.” He blinks. “I don’t think they sell tofu in Wal-Mart, though. Do they?”

Don shrugs. “Beats me. Just thought ya might know, you workin’ in a grocery store all that time and all.”

Dmitri’s face falls a little, and Don kicks himself inwardly. Just because the kid’s stopped talking about his parents all the time doesn’t mean that he’s forgotten, or that he misses them any less.

"Never mind," he says quickly, "the other fellas probably don’t even like tofu. Say, look at that! Sale on leftover Easter candy. Get me a Cadbury egg, will ya?"

And Dmitri is smiling again, as he nods and putters off toward the candy aisle.

They spend most of the remaining trip wandering the aisles, and manage to forget about half the things on the list. (At home, Numbers stares aghast at the several extra boxes of blueberry waffles they bought to make up for it.)

Later, as they eat their chocolate eggs and watch the sun go down, Don doesn’t even cringe at the sheer amount of sugar he’s putting into his mouth. Instead, he takes Dmitri’s hand in one of his (both a little sticky), a bag in the other, and walks them back to the apartment by streetlight, chattering amiably the whole way.


	4. Thunder (Wrench/Numbers)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrenchers, for mrwrencher on tumblr.

For as long as he can remember, he's hated storms. 

Hated himself, for being frightened of them. 

But mostly, he's always hated thunder. It swells through the air and cracks racing through his head and heart and bones; it is nature, and it is his father, screaming, furious, demanding to be heard. 

And then, beside him (above him around him inside him hidden deep), there is Wrench. 

Wrench, who can't and won't listen to the storm, who lies still, whose only reaction to the thunder is to hold tighter.

He hates thunder, still, but he's long since stopped listening.


	5. Three First Days (Wrench/Numbers)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrenchers, biker AU, for anon on tumblr.

"Don’t touch my bike," he said, the first day they met.

'Be careful, that's my baby,' he signed, the first day he let Wrench put his clever hands to use on the dented engine.

 _Take care of her,_ he wrote, the first day Wrench found the note he’d left behind just in case something like this happened.


	6. Makeup (Wrench/Numbers)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrenchers, genderbend AU, for anon on tumblr.

'Because it always looks like shit, that's why,' signs Wrench when Numbers asks incredulously why she doesn't wear any makeup.

'I could teach you how,' signs Numbers, 'I could even put it on for you, but we're professionals, we've gotta look good.'

Wrench refuses on general principle, but she’s tempted to take her partner up on the offer just to see her backpedal and blush like an idiot.


End file.
